


Overwinter

by notjustmom



Series: Words, Words, Words [265]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Not a Mary Verse, Post Season 2, Sherlock Holmes's Retirement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-07 17:59:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10366266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: overwinter: verb: ˌō-vər-ˈwin-tər: to pass, spend or survive the winterfrom Dictionary.com"Old English had the verb oferwintran “to get through the winter,” but it became obsolete at the end of the Old English period (about 1150). Overwinter was formed anew at the end of the 19th century on the model of Scandinavian, e.g., Danish and Norwegian overvintre, Swedish övervintra ; Dutch overwinteren ; or German überwintern."





	

They never moved to Sussex. 

When Sherlock considered everything, first finding a suitable place, then bargaining with a ridiculous realtor, and the trauma of having to pack everything, all the bits and bobs, all the memories into boxes...no. The deciding factor was John, as always. He knew John would have moved for him, left his beloved London, his local, all the comforts that he went away to war for, but he knew it would be too much of a sacrifice. Instead, they stayed in their rooms on Baker Street, solved the odd case here and there, and when the cold months came, they would overwinter in warmer climes. 

"Do you ever regret staying-" John began quietly one night as they were sitting side by side on a beach somewhere, watching the sun settle beyond the ocean.

"There are many things I regret, but, staying with you, in London, is not one of them." Sherlock turned to look at his friend, partner and lover and sighed heavily. "You would have been miserable, the quiet would have made your skin crawl, and besides, can you imagine me a farmer? Really?" John still looked unconvinced. "John. I stayed in London with you, because my home has never been a flat or a room or a street, it has always been you. And I knew. I know you. Better than I know myself, at times. You would have been fine, you would have grown accustomed to a quiet life with me and the bees and your writing, but after all we have been through together, your last years, our last years together should be nothing less than extraordinary. You deserve more than fine. You do know that, don't you, love?"

John blinked at the fading light, then shifted his weight, so he leaned heavily against Sherlock's shoulder. He took the detective's hand in his and brought it to his mouth, kissing it with something close to reverence. "I should have married you. We should have married."

Sherlock snorted. "Why? Do you think I need a ring to know you love me, to know that I am bonded to you, that you are bonded to me? No, John, we don't need a ceremony, or rings or legal mumbo jumbo to know what we are to one another. That you have been my side for 30 years, more or less, that you have chosen me, above all others, is more than I ever hoped for. Honestly, I never thought I'd see my 40th birthday, let alone celebrate turning 65 on this ridiculous, spinning rock with someone who cherished me." The tumble of words stopped suddenly and after a moment, he found his words again, squeezing John's hand gently. "It's starting to get chilly, shall we go dig up dinner or something?"

"Or something." John whispered and pulled Sherlock into a kiss, full of the love they had shared, and the years that were still yet to come.

"Hmm. Perhaps room service?" Sherlock mumbled against John's warm lips, and smiled.

"Uhmhmm."

Sherlock helped John to his feet, picked up his black leather shoes and offered John his arm. "Room service it is."


End file.
